


A Friend In Need

by Losthoundz



Series: The one where Sokka's Fire Nation [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fire Nation Sokka, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Not A Lot Of Comfort, Inspired by Another, Intense?, No editing we die like mne, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Pre-Slash, Story, eh, for my bois, injuries, only towards the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24809161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Losthoundz/pseuds/Losthoundz
Summary: Sokka rolled his eyes, “geez, Zuko, you act like I’m asking you to settle down, have some angry little babies, and drink tea. It’s only a break. The Avatar’s been waiting for a century, he can wait for one more -”A great beam of light shot into the sky, blue and brilliant and huge, its humming vibrating through the air. It was like a big, glaring, sign that screamed for attention. Sokka thought, surprised, that this must be what it felt like to have the universe screw with you.
Relationships: Aang & Katara (Avatar), Hakoda & Katara (Avatar), Iroh & Sokka (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: The one where Sokka's Fire Nation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794469
Comments: 17
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Honor of Being Your Friend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24594385) by [cabooseisneat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabooseisneat/pseuds/cabooseisneat). 



> I respectfully credit this to an awesome author cabooseisneat! Their story 'The Honor of Being Your Friend' is a really good multi-chap work. It inspired this quick write up of the first episode. I might make this into a series but with my work record, probably not. @-@ 
> 
> I took some dialogue quote from their work cause I liked them so much. I'll have at the end of the chapter to credit.

The Fire Nation uniforms were hard to get used to in the beginning. It had been a long time - ages since first learning how to coordinate the foreign straps - but he could still remember the vague feeling of unhappiness at the emblems and the intense hatred of the stiff collars. Now though, the intimidating colors had grown on Sokka. His reflection in the mirror was comforting, its colors reminding him of days playing by ponds and exploring gardens. Back when everything was nice and fun and peaceful. 

Looking over himself, he felt a slightly chastised, remembering brutally how his best friend had never let him forget how odd he was for getting emotionally invested in objects or weapons or anything really that caught his eye. _Tough coming from the kid who snuck Turtleducks into his bed,_ he thought insidiously.

The scripted armor with its shoulder pads and stiff coverage, was a comfortable outfit that he trained and lived in every day since leaving with Zuko. The sight, while likely nightmare inducing to literally the rest of the world, had claimed a small part in his heart. Sokka cleaned it everyday before sleeping, feeling pride every time it shined. There were bad memories and good memories attached to it, but really his admiration came from he fact he’d survived two months of literal hell to earn it. He deserved a little attachment.

That is, except for one thing. The _helmets_. He hated, detested, and _despised_ , the helmets. Ridiculous things that had carried over since Sozin's reign, that apparently some higher up had decided to keep. The design didn’t even make any _sense_. The narrow slits in the skull masks, the idiotic looking spikes on the sides - how was that supposed to protect his precious skull? If he was in charge, the first thing he’d do would be to make _practical_ helmets. 

One of the worst parts of his training before leaving was learning how to fight in them, how to ignore the _glaring_ hindrance that they were, and focus on not getting hit. Not getting hit was the most important part of his training, since most rebels and resistance and any form of attackers were benders and he was most certainly _not_. 

Sokka slipped on the arm bands, the comfortable tight cloths securing his sleeves. Honestly, it was surprising how idiotic the world’s most powerful nation could be sometimes. Snatching up his sword, he wrapped it carefully around his waist, admiring the obvious wear on the scabbard, proof of its use. 

The weapon was a _‘gift’_ from a very psychotic girl who’d at one point in time been maybe-like-a-sibling. Of course, it was given to him as a pity present, a good-luck-doing-the-impossible-see-you- _never_ , but it secretly warmed a part of his heart. Ugly the scabbard may be, it was the sword that was pretty immaculate. _Supposedly_ a throw away from Azula's sword learning attempt, but he wasn’t stupid enough to push his luck to question it.

Sokka affectionately named it Turtleduck and no one but Sokka needed to know that. 

Swiftly, unhindered by the dawns deep shadows, he tied his hair up in a hair piece given to him by Zuko at some festival years ago. It had traveled with him from Caldera and across the world. Out of everything on him, _that_ held a very, very, special part in his heart. A part he aggressively guarded and buried deep into his chest.

Finally done with stalling, he left (his helmet suspiciously well out of sight, therefore being _‘lost’_ ) and braved the cold morning air that reached below the deck. Sokka cursed the fire benders stupid ‘rise with the sun’ habits. _‘It was for Agni, it was tradition, it’s in our nature,_ ’ - yada, yada, yada, no matter what they said, it would always be just another pain in the ass stupid culture _obsession_ , that he prayed every night before sleeping would miraculously die off and give him eigh- no _twelve -_ hours of _undisturbed_ rest. 

“Morning,” he cheered, smiling politely as the other crew members moved below the deck. A few, like Taika and Sai, smiled back or wished him good morning too. Others, rarer and rarer as their journey continued, rolled their eyes or simply ignored him. This crew, with exception of Captain Jee, had been with them for six months now since their last mutiny. It was enough time to generally establish that, _yes, I am not native; yes, I am loyal to the Nation; yes, I have rank and power abroad the ship;_ and _no, I don’t have to listen to you simply because you have an outdated superiority complex._

It always took a bit for the crew to get used to it, and even longer for him to cozy up to them, but in spite of the slurs and general discrimination, he didn’t mind. Eight years in a foreign land created an astronomical amount the tolerance. That and existing by Zuko side for long periods of time.

“—asting time! I already know the basics!” A shrill, young, and familiar voice screeched. Sokka grinned.

“Patience Prince Zuko,” Iroh could be heard, calm and unflinching in the face of his nephews rage.

“I don’t need patience! Just teach me the advanced sets!” There was the known sneer, a mix of a snort and a hiss. “How am I supposed to capture the Avatar like this? A _six-year-old_ child could do them.” 

Sokka’s grin turned into a grimace, his exasperation laced with resentment. Of course he was comparing himself to her. When was he _not_ comparing himself? Three years at sea and his insecurity had only grown, _consumed_ , and only held back by the valiant effort of him and Uncle. A part of Sokka wanted to turn back, go to his room, and _sleep_. Sleep away the problems, the world, and screwed up families. 

Instead, because he was a good friend and he cared about Uncles mental health, he climbed the last steps to the deck and walked out into the practice match. The Southern Poles landscape stretched into a white and pure background, the air thin and frosty. It nipped at his ear familiarly. The insulation in his armor did wonders for his delicate tan skin, but he couldn’t help feeling a sense of wrongness in it. Like it wasn’t supposed to be this way. 

Sokka shoved it down and went over to his raging prince.

“Morning General,” he looked over to the groaning guard lying flat on the floor, then said quieter but still firm, “Zuko.”

“Your late,” Zuko snapped. “Where were you? You were supposed to be in the war room earlier.”

“Yes, I did sleep well last night, thanks for asking. As for being late, I’m a normal person that sleeps normally and _without_ an internal magic clock. I deserve to be late.” Sokka smiled, his tone light, “besides, we planned out our course yesterday, what’s the rush?” 

“We can’t waste time with _sleep,_ Sokka,” Zuko growled, a small burst of flames coming out of his fists, “we have to find the Avatar! Something no one on my ship seems to understand!” His voice was getting to that pitch, the one Sokka had mentally tabbed as his whining voice. 

“I know, I know,” Sokka raises his hands in defeat, not actually intimidated by the fire bender himself, just the tantrum he was threatening to throw. It was way too early for this. “I’m just trying saying, if you tire yourself out now, you’re not going to have the strength to capture him at all. Take a couple seconds and breath, alright?” 

Zuko frowned angrily, “ _don’t_ tell me what to do.” Then he turned around and stomped back to the living breathing practice dummies and began lecturing them about their weak performance. 

“I’m sorry that you had to start the day off like that Sokka,” Iroh said, sipping his tea from where he knelt. The old, low, table had been brought out and on its surface, sat a heated teapot and another cup on directly across. “He is merely irritated by the cold.”

Sokka took the seat, kneeling on the pad, and his hand curling around the warm ceramic. “Eh, if I got bothered that easily _,_ I’d have ditched you two a long time ago,” he smiled into his teacup, “besides, he says all that but he’s still doing it.”

The two of them glance to the side, where Zuko was scolding but not actually fighting around. It wasn’t the sort of rest he had in mind, but he’d take what he could get. 

Iroh laughed merrily. “Very true. One day, I hope your common sense might finally rub off of him.”

They shared a warm chuckle, the background demonstrations going ignored. 

“I talked to him yesterday and managed to convince him to stop by one of the Earth colonies.” Sokka said, sipping generously, “the one with the Kukicha tea ware. He’s still determined to sail to one of the northern ports though.” 

Iroh hummed, pleased, “thank you Sokka. You’re always thinking of others.”

“One of us has too,” he snorted.

“I fear what would have happened if you were not with us,” Iroh continued, “certainly less tea for me!” They laughed again and the conversation slowly drifted to menial conversation. Zuko started his training again, fire licking the air in sharp controlled bursts as if to prove Sokka wrong.

He finished the cup and mentally prepared himself for his morning duties. “I’ll leave him to you for now, General. Good luck with the training. I’ll be back later to start on my own.” 

“Of course. However, there’s no need to be so formal. Call me Uncle,” Iroh smiled. “There are no eager ears up here.”

Sokka stopped halfway to his feet, surprised, then looked away guiltily and huffed, “oh…sorry Uncle. I meant too but, I think it’s starting to become a habit. The crew…well.” He shrugged and that was all the old man needed to know. In a couple more weeks, he’d probably be able to call him that again more freely, when the crew would no longer see it as disrespectful and unprofessional, and more of just another one of the perks of being the childhood friend of the nations exiled prince. He’d found watching his language helped decrease the chance of mutiny.

“It’d help if we didn’t have to keep replacing them every other season.” 

Iroh nodded in understanding and maybe just a hint of sadness. “I understand. I’ll see you this afternoon then, Sokka.” 

Sokka said goodbye, then left for his daily duties. Childhood friend or not, he still had to uphold the image of responsibility. Even if it was just checking off boxes and overviewing an already flawless machinery. 

As Sokka passed by the fight, he couldn’t help but feel pride in Zuko. For all his fits about advanced kata sets, he really had grown. Leaping into the air, diligently dodging and attacking. Far from being that excitable eight-year-old bouncing around the palace halls, struggling to perform even the simplest of forms. Even if Zuko refused to see it, Sokka didn't. He saw as all that hard work slowly inched Zukp up the long steps of achievement. It motivated him to keep working too, against all the prejudice and whispers.

Sokka wouldn’t let this banishment get him down either.

‘ - ‘

That afternoon, he was brandishing one of the practice swords, fending off Jogan’s wide swipe. He rolled to his side, mindful of the surrounding benders eagerly trying to corner him. Jogan was a big man, and for a sixteen year old Sokka who had plenty experience with fighting bigger opponents, an easy target. 

Sliding to his left and dodging a scorching blast from Enngi, he leaped and flipped over Jogan, landing behind him and sliding his blade under one of the straps, cutting it. The chest armor slid off, tripping the older man. Sokka kicked him in the back and watched him fall over. 

Dealing with benders as a non-bender was both easy and very, very, hard. Surprise was normally his go-to finishing move, but since their last run in with pirates and a very skilled earthbender who’d nearly crushed him with a _pebble,_ he’d decided to improve his open field skills. 

It was not going great.

“Heh, Sokka,” Taika huffed, her hand firmly planted on her hip as she peered down at him, “you’ve gotten better.”

“Really?” He coughed, the fireball to the chest knocking the air out of him, “you think so?”

“Maybe.” Then she paused, thinking, “you _were_ harder to hit this time and you _did_ get Jungo and Owa.” 

After taking out Jungo, he’d spent a good ten minuets of intense dodging and tumbling and basically running away, trying to get them to hit each other through fake turns and swift misdirection. That had worked well in the first couple lessons, but after they got his strategy down, it was just one loss after another. 

Taika yanked him up and Iroh approached him, “miss Taika is correct, Sokka. You defended yourself very well today.”

He snorted. “I don’t know if I’d really call this,” he gestured tot he burned spot on his chest, “defended.”

Silently, he added that he didn’t do to well with Engi either. Who had, to put it in delicately, took advantage of knowing his greatest fear - _spirits._ It wasn’t his fault that she was good actor! Pretending to go pale and scared all of a sudden just to get him to lower his guard. Sokka counted his lucky stars that it had happened rather quickly and that no one seemed to remember it after the chaos of the spar.

Iroh rubbed his chin thoughtfully, ignorant of his damaged pride, “they couldn’t apprehend you by hand, as demonstrated by our ambitious friend Lt. Owa, and kept them at a distance while slowly wearing them down. Quite successful, if I may add. I have no doubt that you would prove to be quite formidable in a more covered area.” Iroh encouraged. Sokka looked doubtful so Iroh continued, “you did well today Sokka. You mustn’t be too hard on yourself.”

Sokka groaned, forgetting himself a little bit, “Uncle, _please_. I’m not Zuko.” 

Taika laughed, “I don’t know sir, you two are more alike than you think. It’s probably why you both get along so well.” 

“That’s not how the saying goes. It’s opposites attract. _Opposites._ ” he sniffled, “And besides, you’d stop me if I was that… _that,_ right?” He discreetly wiggled his eyebrows to Zuko.

Taika barked out a laugh, her hand clapping hard on shoulder, “believe me Sokka, if you were, I think this whole boat would sink. Can’t put _that_ much ego on water and expect it to float.”

Sokka grinned. Out of everyone, Taika was definitely his favorite. She took to his teasing attitude towards Zuko like a fish to water. No stiff manners or anything. He desperately hoped she’d be here next year, it’d be nice to have another familiar face on the boat.

He _really_ wanted to believe she wouldn’t take part in the next mutiny. 

“Sokka!” 

Sokka looked over his shoulder, where Zuko was standing. He was cross armed, an irritated glare projected onto anyone within a fifty mile radius (the whole ship). Sokka smiled back. As long as he wasn’t trembling or yelling or seething or breathing fire, it was a pretty good bet that he was just fake irritated and not _actually_ irritated. 

Sokka bowed quickly to Iroh and Taika, then ran up to him. Zuko was stiff, rigid, and very much looking like someone who wasn’t trying to look worried. People called the Prince uncaring, cold, arrogant, and unreasonable, and while Zuko defiantly could be all of that and _more_ , that wasn’t who he was. No, most of that was just his defense system cranked up to a thousand, an impenetrable wall of assholery and anger that truly only came down for certain people. 

“You’re form was off,” Zuko grunted, looking off to the side and trying to look nonchalant. “This is why you can’t keep slacking off. I need you at your best if I want to capture the Avatar.”

“For honor and glory?” Sokka couldn’t help but tease. They both knew that was hardly the truth, not with the way Zuko had glared rather intensely at his scrapes or made that pinched sour look when he had started losing or how incredibly hard he was trying to play it all off as irrational anger. 

“For my home and my people.” Zuko corrected, puffing up his chest. In a so un-subtle way, he checked over Sokka's well-being. “I can’t believe you let those buffoons get the best of you.”

“I know. I can’t believe it either. It was almost as I was fighting against firebenders with nothing but a sword.” Sokka deadpanned, “I mean, what kind of moron would I have to be to attempt _that?”_

Zuko rolled his eyes, looking back a the narrow glacier filled ocean with exasperation. A small tug was at his lips, and if he squinted he could almost see it pulling upwards. 

Sokka called it a victory. 

“A special kind - which you _are._ ” 

“You’re so mean today, Zuko,” Sokka mocked a hurt face, holding his chest dramatically, “I wanna see _you_ try fighting without your fire, magic-freak. I’ll have you know my fight had a lot of genius in it today, not a single dumb move.”

“ _Really?_ ”

“Name one,” Sokka taunted, enjoying the banter more than he let on.

Zuko closed his eyes in thought, as if actually thinking about it, “you got distracted over a duck.” 

_That_ , Sokka actually took offense too. “If _someone_ hadn’t left the port before we could restock on _real_ meat, I wouldn’t have be so desperate!”

“Fish _is_ real meat, and ducks don’t even live here.”

“How do _you_ know that?”

Zuko frowned. “You tripped on your own sword.”

“I think you mean brutally _disarmed._ I defiantly had the upper - ”

“You punched your _own_ foot.” 

“Trying to break out of a hold! Again, normal human? I reserve the right to take extreme measures.” 

“Perhaps Engi should guard me instead, she had good form. Especially when she -”

Sokka felt himself heat up at the mention, all of sudden wanting the conversation to end. “Ok ok you made your point - ”

“- t was impressive and graceful while you were floundering - ” 

“Hey!” 

“- told you to drop that ridiculous -”

“Alright!” He exploded, then went red with embarrassment that he did. Punching Zuko in the arm lightly, he snorted, “your a real hypocrite, you know that? It really hurts me to see you sink this low. Honestly, since I _very_ clearly remember that a certain _someone_ at the last port got tricked - ”

Zuko kicked him in the shin and he let out a surprised yelp. Looking over his shoulder back at Uncle, Zuko hissed, “say another word and I’m putting you on _all_ the night shifts till the end of the month.”

Sokka rolled his eyes, sympathetically rubbing his shin. “Don’t be dramatic Z. I’m sure everyone gets pushed into rhino crap at least _once_ in their life."

“That horrid girl _tripped_ me,” Zuko whispered hurriedly, as if trying to get it all out of his mouth at once and heavily emphasizing the word _'tripped'_ as if Sokka hadn't been right next to him when he fell for the oldest trick in the book. “And I’m not just anyone - I’m the _prince._ ” And there it was, the tense shoulders and the hard crease on his forehead that didn’t belong. Sokka sighed. And he just got him to relax too.

“Fine, fine.” Sokka conceded, then after a beat, “why don’t we go below deck and play some Pai Sho? I’ll even forget that you ‘tripped’ and you can pretend you didn’t just watch me get my ass kicked.” 

Zuko looked hesitant, so Sokka pushed lightly, “C’mon Zuko, it’s going to take _forever_ for us to sweep this place and I could use a break. Please?” 

Sokka was careful not to sound too demanding. Sometimes, navigating around Zuko was like navigating volcanic geysers, one wrong move and his mood could plummet. He found it really hard at times, to pull his friend away from his all-consuming obsession. Zuko clung to it like nothing else mattered in the world and trying to separate them was like trying melt ice with just a glare, but usually when he won (which was often) it bore results. 

Zuko only agreed to the meditating routine after Sokka had basically pandered to his ever growing pride, which only worked because he’d tired out the Prince in a sparring match before hand, effectively sedating the blind drive to complete the mission enough for him to see some sense. 

A contemplated look came over Zuko, who non-discreetly glanced back at him, and a restrained huff was made. “I still have to find the Avatar.”

Sokka rolled his eyes, “geez, Z, you act like I’m asking you to settle down, have some angry little babies, and drink tea. It’s only a break. The Avatar’s been waiting for a century, he can wait for one more -” 

A great beam of light shot into the sky, blue and brilliant and huge, its humming vibrating through the air. It was like a big, glaring, sign that screamed for attention. Sokka thought, surprised, that this must be what it felt like to have the universe screw with you.

“Finally,” Zuko whispered in awe, a dark tone settling with an equally heavy look to go along with it. Ozai suddenly flashed through Sokka's mind. Zuko turned to him, for reassurance or simply out of habit he didn’t know, “it’s him, the _Avatar._ ” 

Sokka blinked, for once unable to think of anything to say. Zuko, caught up in his enthusiasm and sudden rush of adrenaline, took his silence as support and stomped away, shouting at the captain and then, at his Uncle. 

Sokka looked back up at the sky, a wheeze coming out. “Huh. Well, fuck me.”

In spite of Uncle’s attempt at pacification, Sokka couldn’t help but agree with Zuko. That wasn’t celestial lights (how he knew _that_ , he didn’t know.) and it wasn’t a dead end. Something shifted in his gut and his intuition screamed at him, and his intuition was _never_ wrong. This…this was the real deal. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did. This was it.

“I really _don’t_ know when to shut up,” he dazedly whispered. Somehow, he felt like someone far away (probably god) was laughing loudly. Obnoxiously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I re-worded a little bit but they got he same structure so I wanted to credit anyways!
> 
> \- Your late,” Zuko snapped. “Where were you? You were supposed to be in the war room earlier.”
> 
> “Yes, I did sleep well last night, thanks for asking. As for being late, I’m a normal person that sleeps normally and without an internal magic clock. I deserve to be late.” Sokka smiled, his tone light, “besides, we planned out our course yesterday, what’s the rush?” -
> 
> \- Sokka looked back up at the sky, a wheeze coming out. “Huh. Well, fuck me.” -
> 
> If anyone spots some parts that I missed, just tell me!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! Hope it wasn't too long of a wait!

Suiting up, _fully_ , always felt a little wrong. Aside from the ridiculous helmet (that he was forced to _‘find’_ ), he could never shake the ache that went with it. He loved the colors, the familiarity, the pride of having earned it from his trainers, but he couldn’t shake the small twinge of wrongness. Of injustice. 

Some part of him, still recovering from that huge beam of light, pointed out that it might be the irony of going to a Water Tribe in a Fire Nation uniform. It didn’t make him feel any better, since he was willing to bet his jerky that the last time Fire Nation landed it was a raid. And didn’t _that_ just bring up memories.

He steeled himself. Outside was a crew that had only just begun to respect him, that had only just begun accepting his station. If Sokka faltered they’d take it as betrayal and then probably try to kill him and mutiny. Even if the tribe looked like him, had his eyes - eyes that he cursed back in the homeland and sometimes on the sea - he _wasn’t_ one of them. They were the enemy. Even if the enemy was just a small village, it was like a wounded animal, one that was still reeling from the last attack and desperate to strike. To take anyone just as the Fire Nation had taken one of theirs.

Sokka really hated the war sometimes. He loved Uncle even more for keeping Zuko away from all that. 

Someone knocked and he jolted. 

“Yes?”

“Uh, the Prince is waiting for you up top in the tower.” It Engi behind the door. She sounded tired, yawning before she continued. “He, uh, was very enthusiastic.” Meaning another fit. Or maybe just nerves.

“Alright, I’ll be there.” He looked himself over, the sword on his him, the god-awful helmet under his arm, the thick gloves and his head piece securing his hair tightly back. If it wasn’t for his eyes and the darker skin, he would almost be one of them. An old hurt that he’d been soothing for years ached.

When he got outside, past the chaos below, and up the stair case past the equally chaotic surface, he spotted Zuko glaring at the horizon from the edge of the crows nest . The moon above them twinkled and a sort of encouragement filled him. 

“It’s almost midnight now. Any sign?” 

Zuko continued glaring. “No.”

Sokka sighed rubbing his chin. “Can’t say I’m surprised, this _is_ their home. Didn’t expect it to be easy.”

“They’re just a bunch of savages!” He snapped, hands twisting into a sight grip. Smoke started to leak out. “They’re not going to keep him from me. His cowardly days are over.”

Sokka didn’t flinch at the tone or at the insult. It’d been a long time since he was offended by that and while Zuko still tried to avoid it, his ambition blinded him to everything. Even Sokka

“Look, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think you should go to bed.” Zuko whipped around, disbelief and betrayal in his eyes. His mouth opened to shout but Sokka held up his hand. “Hear me out Zuko. I’m serious. If you’re not at your best, you’re gonna lose him and then what? He disappears for another century? If you’re not smart about this, we’re _never_ going to go home. This is the Avatar we’re talking about, master of all four elements? A hundred years of training? It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Zuko’s single eyebrow furrowed, scar crinkling. He looked thoughtful, then looked back to the horizon in the direction they saw the pillar of light.“You don’t get to tell me what to do.” 

Sokka pursed his lips, a small smile coming to his face. “Yeah, sorry. What do I know? I just save your life from time to time. Totally have no idea what I’m talking about.”

Zukp huffed but from behind, Sokka could see some tension bleed out. Cooling down Zuko was like popping an angry, on defense, balloon. You had to slowly approach, ease your way closer, and cut a small discreet hole and let the air file out on it’s own time. Slow, but steady.

“If you think I’m going to sleep with him only _miles_ away, then you’re a fool.” 

“Okay, fine, that was pretty far fetched.” Sokka shrugged. “Why don’t you drink that tea with me instead? Uncle still has some left over. And you should put something on other than a robe, it’s colder than one of Azula's glares out here.”

When Zuko didn’t say anything, Sokka walked over till they were shoulder to shoulder. His best friend was pointedly staring very hard, out into the distance. There was a sort of unease and insecurity about him. A rare sight beneath his usual bravado. 

“You know I’m with you all the way, right? No matter what.” Sokka felt the familiar promise hang heavy on his tongue, “We’re gonna go home, I promise. You and me together.” 

Zuko got an unreadable look on his face. “…thank you.”

Sokka put his arm around his shoulders, hoping the touch grounded him. He didn’t say anything else, knowing that any more ‘touching’ words would probably blow Zuko meter for emotion through the roof and he’d just storm off in embarrassment. It wasn’t a lie though. Sokka would do anything to make him happy, to get back his friend. And if that meant capturing the worlds only hope for the worlds worst enemy, he’d do it.

‘-‘

Captain Jee was a good man, Sokka knew. A good man who trusted Sokka's instincts, and after three years of proving himself, it wasn’t much of a surprise. Still, it solidified the mans status in Sokka’s mind. He didn’t question his quiet demands for a secured and empty room or for quickly melded together heavy duty chains or for the fortified door or or the debriefing of guard shifts. None of it.

Captain Jee was a good, experienced, _understanding,_ man. Now if only his best friend could be too.

“I’m just asking you to think this through, Zuko,” Sokka said, “you can’t just go storming in the village and expect them to yield. They didn’t last time and they certainly aren’t going to do it now, _especially_ if they have the Avatar.”

“I’m the Prince, son of Fire Lord Ozai, they will listen to me or they will watch their home burn,” Zuko hissed. The maps on the table jumped as he slammed his hands down on the table, “the Avatar is the protector of the people, he won’t stand down if they start crying for help.”

“Really? Because he’s been doing _exactly_ that for the past century.”

“It’s different! This is his home.”

“So was the Southern Air Temples!” 

Zuko shot him a vicious glare, hands twisting into the maps. A faint scent of burning filled his nose. Great. Because that’s just what they needed. A burning of all their maps. 

“I am not going to risk tipping him off by sending in a scouting group. Either _I_ catch him or it’s pointless!” 

Sokka pulled up his shoulders, ready to shout if he needed to, ready to shove it down his throat to explain that surveying their field first and then setting a trap was not _dishonorable_. Ozai didn’t exactly give them any rules! Who cared if it was by one of his men, Iroh, or even Sokka that snagged him? It was under _his_ name - they’d be bringing him home on _his_ ship! Their ambush on the Avatar would be the first in a hundred years, if they failed the element of surprise would be lost! When would they get another chance this good? When would anyone?

“Zuko, you -” 

Suddenly, the war room’s door burst open and a soldier came tumbling in. “There- there’s been a sighting! An old war ship shot up flares and General Iroh spotted two figures flying away!”

Zuko sent him a scathing look. “Ready the men! We’re disembarking as soon as we land.” 

Just as Zuko was leaving the room Sokka caught his arm, “listen, just, can we please just be careful? I want to do this just as much as you do, you know that.”

“Careful won’t capture the Avatar. Careful won’t bring me honor.” Zuko snarled, ripping his arm away and stomping off, leaving Sokka in the war room alone. 

Sokka really tried. He really did.

‘-‘

It was the size of the village that shocked him the most. Small, cramped, and importantly, _primitive_. Igloos, camp fires, bone-head spears - he knew the soldier always called the Water Tribe savages, but he always figured it to be some sort of fairy tale insult. Something to boost the the pride the Fire Nation. Somehow, it hurt more to find out it was true than any insult he’d ever heard.

Sokka traveled silently by Zuko's side as they went down the ramp. It was unnerving how many of the people were women and children. The men were spread up front, a weak defense as there were so few of them, but mostly it was just women and children. They were all wrapped up in thick blue clothing and all together like this, they looked like a blob of water. He remembered, rather hopelessly, that it was winter. Cold, brutal, winter. 

Sokka _really_ hoped Zuko wouldn’t burn anything down. 

Suddenly, as they were walked down, a one of the men came charging up, letting out a war cry with spear in hand. 

“Bato! No!” Another man cried from the crowd.

The attackers face was donned in what Sokka supposed was war paint. Sokka swiftly stepped up front, grabbed the spear and used the mans momentum to throw him over. They continued on, walking down as if it had never happened. Through the slits in his mask, he observed the tension in the crowd.

“Where are you hiding him?” Zuko demanded, looking out into the crowd. The people whispered, scared and apprehensive. The men, inched forward, hesitant but ready. Finally, one of the men, tall, dark-skinned, and blue eyed, spoke up.

“We don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said and his voice was strong, causing the people around him to stand straighter at the sound of it. Sokka felt a sense of familiarity stir, a longing in his chest. “Please believe us, there is no one here for you.” 

“A likely story.” Zuko walked up, striding proudly and the rest of them tailed faithfully behind. “I know you have the Avatar. Bring him to me now and there will be no consequences.” 

Sokka watched the older man carefully, his stoic face setting something off. A trusted instinct sounded an alarm. Quietly, he looked around, scanning the faces for any any outliers. A red herring. Something to tip off the dangerous lie they were hiding. It was the Avatar, if he wanted to he could have sunk their ship and leave them stranded here. Why were they trying to wait till the last moment? Was it stalling or something else?

“He should be about this age. Master of all elements?” Zuko was manhandling an older women, glaring out into the crowd. The Water Tribe man, the leader, was strongly still in the face of their threatened elderly. 

_‘Somethings not right,’_ he thought, hand slowly gripping his swords handle. Behind him, he heard one of the soldiers move, their feet slowly sliding into a defense stance. Sai? It warmed him that at least one of them trusted his instincts.

When the crowd stayed silent, Zuko blasted fire in a show of intimidation. None of their tents got caught in its destructive heat, but the threat could be felt rippling through the air. People cried out and the men hunched over, backing up as it spread up into the sky.

“Stop it! He’s not here! He left already!” 

“Katara!” 

It was a girl. Her young face shrouded in rage. She broke the line, walking up from behind the leader who’d shouted her name. “Leave us alone!”

The older man grabbed her elbow, dragging her close. A thunderous cloud came over him and as he turned his eyes to Zuko, it morphed into anger. Before anyone could move though, another war cry was screamed from behind their formation. It was the man from before, who had run up to them and failed. He was running now, the spear still in hand. 

“Damn it Bato!” The leader yelled, then, “do it now!”

Sokka whipped his head back, his eyes widening. He _so_ had called it.

Feeling the ground shift, he looked down and saw the beginning of a crevice. It was a trap! Cursing he pulled at Zuko's arm and threw him to the side just as the floor gave way, not at all caring how rough he was. Asshole deserved it for not listening to him. This is _exactly_ why he wanted to at least scout out the area.

Sokka fell through, landing on his back side with a hiss, the sound of cluttering armor and groans around him. Blinking hard, he tried to will away the ringing in his ears. There was shouting and he was pretty sure he could hear fire roaring. 

“Damn helmet,” he groaned, shoving the thing off his head. Above he hear Zuko let out an irritated yell. “Damn Avatar.” 

Jumping to his feet, he saw they were in a sort of ditch, an ice pit made by hand. The walls were at least twice his height and were flat with no where to grip. Behind him, almost the entire unit was trying to recover. Zuko was probably alone then.

Eying the corner, Sokka backed up. Ha, and the crew called his roof climbing escapades pointless. Getting a running start, he jumped onto the wall, then leapt across and gripped the ledge. Swiftly, he pulled himself up top. The cold wind of the tundra bit at his unprotected ears. 

On the surface, Zuko was fighting off five men and two other females, both of who were throwing stones or objects. The ship, just to his right, suddenly had fire coming off the deck. He groaned inwardly. They must have snuck on, and then ambushed the crew. He snorted. Uncle would have them tied up soon enough.

Ahead of him, the fight was being viciously fought. Zuko was battling the men with surprising difficulty. Sokka gathered they were veterans, people who’d fought off the enough raids to hold their own against a single bender. Around him, the crowd had backed up, further into their village but not dispersed completely. It surprised him. He expected them to evacuate or hide, instead they were throwing everything they had - fish, spears, objects small enough to hold - at the few men who had managed to avoid the pitfall. Even the children were part of it. 

Sokka saw other adults, women with larger stones approach the ditch, planning to drop it onto the men still stuck below. Zuko was still battling the others, winning but not quick enough, and no one had come down the ship yet. Behind him a little voice let out cried out, and he whipped around just in time to spot a girl with a raised pot sneak up behind him.

Thinking on his feet, not wanting to lose the only lead they’d had in years, he disarmed her easily and held the girl close. Slipping out his knife, Sokka placed it under her chin, pressing down enough to draw blood but not injure her completely. There were times in this long, long, journey where he questioned just how far he would go for it and what it said about him.

“Enough!” He roared, hoping it projected, “enough!” 

It only grabbed one of the stone-droppers attention, and when she saw him she screamed, blood curdling and shrill, and suddenly the chaos was being brought to a halt. The girl under his blade couldn’t be more than ten, trembling as he pulled her into his arms. He wasn’t going to kill her, he didn’t think he could, but this was their only shot at getting home and he wasn’t going to lose it because of some backwater village.

“Tell us where the Avatar went, and I promise you on my honor, we will leave. No burning, no killing - just the Avatar.” He looked around at their paling faces.

Zuko looked at him, his face controlled in an oddly emotionless mask, and continued, “You heard that. Choose. Your village or an outsider.”

The women who had screamed buckled, her eyes wildly looking at her tribe. Wordlessly, she began crying and her lips wobbled. She was looking at the kid as if it’d be the last time. There was a strained silence, a tense moment as their enemies push and pulled between the choices. The men fighting Zuko looked about ready to pounce, as if they could cross twenty-feet in a single leap, and the children were gasping and pleading as they watch on helpless.

Sokka tried very, very hard to ignore the little girls quiet sobbing. He probably wasn’t going to sleep _at all_ tonight.

Suddenly, breaking the tension, a young voice called out, “stop it! I’ll go with you, just leave her alone!” 

A burst of air blew through and Sokka quickly moved the knife away from her throat, afraid to accidentally cut her. It was a boy, maybe a little older than the girl, with blue tattoo’s Sokka _knows_ shouldn’t exist.

“It’s me, I’m the Avatar. Let her go.” The boy was looking at him, his staff extended and a strange vulnerable gaze in his eyes. “ _Please_.”

Great. So it was a child airbender who they were dragging home in chains. Not some wise old man, or some feeble, ugly, coward. A kid, much like the one he was threatening to kill. An uncomfortable churn buried itself into his chest. It felt a lot like disgust.

“Get the restraints,” Zuko ordered, pushing past the now still attackers. Then the _idiot,_ clearly high on adrenaline, walked up to the boy without any weapon or backup, and growled, “I have been waiting a long time, _Avatar._ ” 

One of the men that crawled out of the pit, clasped on the iron restraints, heavy secure. The boy’s eyes were still on him, however. Feeling pressured, Sokka looked to Zuko for confirmation and after one last secured click on the restrains on his ankles, he let the girl go. She stumbled forward, running to the lady who had screamed and burying herself into her arms. The women hugged back just as tight and whispered sweet comforts into her ear. 

“Wait, Aang!” The girl, the young teen from before came bursting out of no where, panic on her face. 

“Katara!” Called the leader, this time the cry was laced with fear.

“You can’t take him! I won’t let you!”

Zuko was already walking back to the ship and he ignored the girl, but Sokka eyed her and then to the Avatar, who looked back just as desperately.

“It’s okay, Katara.” He winked and then smiled sadly. “It’s okay.”

Wow, that was _so_ not subtle. Not even a little bit. Sokka went to follow Zuko, distrusting of the Avatar's word. He could feel stares on him, the villagers peering closer as he passed by. There was confusion, a light air of disbelief among them and he couldn’t bring himself to confront it. 

Zuko, on the other hand, was letting the crew manhandle the kid in plain sight. 

“Set sail for Caldera at once,” Zuko barked, Captain Jee staring at their prisoner with wide eyes, “and get the intruders off my ship. We’re going home.” 

Sokka shot a glance over his shoulder, to the cramped village they were leaving behind. He felt nostalgic, a longing to stay, but he quickly looked ahead. Now wasn’t the time for sentiment. 

‘-‘

When he was younger, Sokka began developing a good tolerance for pain. He didn’t know when it happened, probably between his short time as a prisoner, his sparring lessons, and all those injuries he got when he royal siblings dragged Sokka into one of their stupid plots, but in times like this, he was glad to have it.

“Stop it!” He shouted, holding as tight as possible onto the human tornado. The chains, heavy and durable, turned out to be completely useless to the airbender, who just used the force of probably his _will alone,_ to blast them off. Sokka had only barely caught him before he flew out onto the deck, holding on for dear life as the boy continuously tried to fly out of his grip by haphazardly blowing himself up and down and sideways onto the walls, leaving Sokka to play cushion to every hit.

Pain was crawling up his back and ribs, arms sore trying to hold on. The ship was always crawling with people, all of them walking on shifts or exploring out of sheer boredom - sometimes he felt like he couldn’t go down a hallway without bumping into someone. How was no one but him in this corridor?!

“Let! Go!” The Avatar (Aang?) squealed, and with one last leap, he slammed Sokka into the ceiling. It proved to do the trick because the pain was too much, and he let go, rolling to his side and choking. The kids head had banged itself into his throat and now it felt like he couldn’t breath, coughing to try and ease the pain. Distantly he heard a _‘sorry!’_ Yeah. Sorry _totally_ made him feel better.

Kicking himself mentally, Sokka crawled up against the wall, gripping his throat and trying to massage it back to health. Note to self, just knock out the kid and get it over with. Let the him try air bending strapped to a chair. And a gag since he could apparently blow entire _gusts_ out of his mouth.

“C’mon Sokka,” He hoarsely whispered, “don’t let the benders have all the fun.”

Right. Because capturing kids was defiantly his definition of fun. Groggily, he decided he was spending way too much time with Jungo, the ships very own enthusiastic Ozai loyalist. Next time they pick out the crew, he was going to do in-depth research, even if it meant sacrificing his pride to become a stalker.

“The Avatar is in the Princes chambers!” Someone called from above. _Now_ they decided to show up. Pulling back his shoulders and ignoring the _loud_ aching throb in his head, he ran up the steps just in time to watch Zuko chase the Avatar out into the open. Open as in open air as in _jumping from the god damn crows nest._

Sokka watched, stunned with shock as Zuko managed to _barely_ grab the Avatar's leg, and cascade down from the skies. They landed on deck and then began to fight, dueling it out with Zuko ferociously striking blindly leaving the airbender to solely defending.

Sokka watched on helpless as Zuko pushed and pushed, and if he wasn’t currently recovering from getting airbended into pipe-lined walls, he’d have pointed out that they were getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Wait, Zuko -” He cried out too late, then watched as the Avatar fell into the water. The cold, frigid, water with nothing but thin nomad clothing. Sokka darted to the railing, leaning over, praying to every spirit he knew that there wasn’t a flattened Avatar at the bottom. It wasn't that large of a fall, was it? Bubbles were rising to the top. Great, it was a _drowning_ Avatar.

“You idiot!” Sokka snapped, then went to his uniform, trying to swiftly dismantle all the heavy armor. Sokka ignored the assured and still angry, face of the prince and mentally prepared himself to dive in icy waters with nothing but clothing that would do absolutely _nothing_ for the cold, broken ribs, and probably a concussion. 

Just as he was about to jump, a pillar of water shot up, powerful and raging, and the Avatar was in the middle of it, hoisted into the air.His eyes were glowing madly along with his tattoos. 

“That’s not a good sign.” Sokka muttered.

The Avatar landed on the deck with a splash, a stream of water flowing into his hands and gathered into a ring around him. Pushing it out, it violently knocked the crew back. Jungo, the heavy bastard, landed right on top of him. 

“Fuck!” Sokka cried out, the heavy body comprising on his bruised _everywhere_. Then in the corner of his eye, he watched Zuko fall to his death. 

“ _No!_ ” Sokka roared, the bottom of his stomach turning into a deep yawning pit, pulling his heart down into it. Uncaring of his surroundings and overwhelmed with terror, he scrambled up and ran over to the side. On the anchor, Zukp was hanging on with an enraged expression. God, did he go to _bed_ like that? It was like it was carved onto his face.

“The Avatar!” He commanded. Just barely Sokka managed to _not_ roll his eyes. One day, Sokka promised himself, when Zuko thanked and/or apologized to him, all dramatic and extra and flare-y in his own Zuko way, Sokka was going to sit down and recite all the dumbass stuff he had to do for him and then make the prince repeat it all back to him just so he knew how utterly ridiculous he was. _Is._

Turning around, Sokka pulled his weapon out, fully ready to throw himself at the Avatar with nothing but a sword because that was just Sokka's life. Instead, he had to nearly bite clean through his tongue to holdback from yelling, or maybe just fainting, because instead of the Avatar, he came face to face with a giant furry _thing_. Wonderful. He didn’t even _want_ to know how that got onboard. Apparition? Avatar magic? _Spirit_ magic?!

“Are you okay?” The girl - Katara- was helping the Avatar up. Did she _ride_ that? 

_Don’t ask question you don’t want the answers to Sokka_ , he thought, _it’s now or never!_ He charged, trying his very best to leave his body loose in case he got thrown around _again_ , and swung high. The two spotted him, pulling back in surprise and horror and for a split second he thought he could do this. Jump in, startle them, separate them, knock out the Avatar, and _finally_ go home and maybe along the way, Zuko would figure out that his dad was an asshole and his sister was psychotic and there was really only one person who deserved to sit to the throne.

Sokka let himself hope for one blissful long second.

Then, right on cue, he got side slammed by a man donned in ablue parka and pinned down by another. Biting his lip he refrained from groaning in pain. This was starting to get really annoying really fast. Sokka did not train just to get thrown around all the time. 

“Get. Off.” He growled. The man above just dug his knee further into his shoulder blades. 

“Stay down, traitor.” The Water Tribe leader hissed. “I’ve seen your eyes - how could you wear their colors? Do you know what they’ve done? You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Dunno about that,” Sokka huffed back, “I’m not the one that just got beaten up by a teenager.”

“Wha - ” 

In a rather expert move that he defiantly _did not_ steal off of Azula, he pushed his knees under him as much as possible and raised his hips with all his might, causing his enemy to break his hold. Spinning around onto his back, he locked his knees around the mans neck and twisted. When the head met the metal deck, he smirked. Hows _that_ for a concussion?

“Hakoda!” The other man - the face paint guy from earlier- yelled.

Snatching up Turtleduck, Sokka jumped to his feet. The Katara girl was hoisting the Avatar up with only the single painted-face man to guard. Confidence bubbled up in him. _This_ he could do. Man vs man. No bending, no benders, no stupid Avatar - he could _win_ this. On the other end the crew was starting to get back on their feet and suddenly, it was all too easy. 

Face-Paint approached him, spear in hand, looking ready to pounce. Sokka re-adjusted his grip on his sword, uncomfortably aware he was without armor. 

“You must have an interesting story,” Face-Paint said, stalling, “why is someone with your eyes with the Fire Nation?”

“Its none of your business.”

“It is if you’re one of us.”

“Except you know, _I’m not._ ”

Face-Paint got a curious gaze, his attention narrowing in on Sokka as if reassessing him from top to bottom. “Your too young to be a traitor - you’d have been just a kid during the raids. You don’t have a rank either, not with those colors. If you’re not one of them or one of us, who are you?” _What are you?_

He didn’t grace that with an answer, didn’t spare a single thought on it either, and instead focused the opening the man had just created. He was older, but still young and agile enough to pose a threat. He was broad shouldered, eyes weary and careful. There was an experienced gleam in them but still, Sokka was trained by specialists and place guards and hired _tutors_. 

Diving forward, he stepped sideways, anticipating the arm that raised to hit him. Swiftly, Sokka tucked himself into his space and grabbed above his elbow, then sank to his knees threw him over his shoulder. Face-Paint landed on his back with a powerful thud and Sokka aimed for the legs with the butt of his sword, angling for a harmless but _very_ painful hit, and he would have made it. _Would have_ being the key word, but the universe hated him so instead, Katara reacted just in time to freeze him to the spot. 

“A waterbender?” Sokka muttered, exasperated. 

“That’s right,” she hissed, “you stupid Fire Nation scum! You didn’t get all of us!” 

“Right. _Of course_ you’re a waterbender.” Sokka looked discreetly over her shoulder to the crew slowly approaching from behind, and said, hoping to distract her more, “is that how you and the Avatar became friends? Did you two bond over being the last of your kind?”

In a way it was like teasing Azula all over again, before she was actually a threat. Katara looked even angrier, eyes blown wide and cheeks staining red, her mouth twisted silent fury. It was a perfect opportunity for the man behind her to attack but before anyone could, the Water Tribe leader, probably concussed, shouted, “Katara! Behind you!”

And Katara, untrained but still determined, managed to freeze the rest of the crew in one hand wave. Awesome. Today was just _great_. Squinting, he tried to push out the blurriness in his eyes and start hacking away at the ice. Screw it, he was just going to do it the hard way then.

“Sokka! What are you doing?! They’re getting away!” Zuko yelled, climbing up from the side of the ship.

“I’m trying!” Sokka sharply retorted, banging his sword against the hold, muttering, “just a guy, with a sword.”

If he had looked up, to Face-Paint grappling on the beast with the Water Tribe leader on his back or to Katara helping him up, he’d have seen their faces pale at his name. Would have seen the sudden realization in their eyes and the shock that followed along with the devastation. He’d have seen their longing and guilt and disbelief all in one, the un-natural paling of a heartbroken sister and a traumatized father. But he didn’t and by the time Sokka was free and did look up, they were in the sky and flying away. 

“Shoot them down!” Zuko roared, running up to the front, Uncle suddenly in tow. A bitter part of Sokka sneered. _Now_ he shows up. The intense blast that followed, shot up towards their escaping prisoner and his friends, was knocked to the side in a blast of wind and into the cliff and the ship was buried in an instant. Sokka tried not to think of how badly they just failed, a surprisingly easy task with his headache and the ringing and his body shivering with cold or pain he didn’t know. The next time he held onto the Avatar, Sokka was just going to let go. It _so_ wasn’t worth the aftercare.

“How could you let them get away? We had them!” Zuko stormed, “he was right there! Did you _let_ them get away?” A betrayed, hurt, look suddenly washed through the prince and with it a new wave of anger. “Is that all it takes? Some savages who look like you?” Somehow despite being quieter, the question sounded just as loud, if not louder.

“Prince Zuko,” Uncle admonished, hand quickly coming up to his shoulder. It was quickly pushed off by his steaming nephew.

“How could you?! You’re - You’re no different than them. I - I should have known. You’re just another savage trying to play pretend as one of us.” Zuko sneered, “just another outsider.”

It was absolutely painful, like a knife cutting into his heart, to hear that. Anyone else was okay, he could handle it, but not his best friend. Even through the constant banging of his head, it rang clear. Somewhere, Azula's snide voice weaseled in, _why are you so loyal to him? It’s stupid. He’s never going to appreciate it._

He hadn’t been able to say anything back, because honestly? He almost agreed.

Sokka supposed, before he blacked out (maybe for the rest of his life either from his injuries or heartache) that he was going to punch him. So he did. Sokka’s fist snapped forward and buried itself into Zuko’s cheek and it felt _great._ The only satisfaction he’d had the whole damn day. 

“You,” Sokka managed, pushing the words past his tightening airway, unable to tell if it was the pain or his hurt that was causing it, “are an _idiot._ ”

Sokka hoped that did the trick because his throat decided to completely close up after that and did he get hit somewhere in the neck? He might have, he couldn’t remember when through. 

Sokka was pretty sure there was some more explosive yelling and maybe some more scathing and terrible insults, but he was too busy trying to stand straight as the world began to wobble. What happened again? Did the Avatar do this? Was it spirits? Damn, he hoped it wasn’t spirits. Sokka did not want to deal with spirits today. Ugh. He couldn’t think anymore. It hurt too much. So he did the next best thing. 

Sokka shut his eyes and went to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, a cliff hanger, I'm so sorry T-T this is about where the first arc ended in Cabooseisneat's story so I ended up loosing a little steam. I might write up the second part of the series but who knows ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ hope you enjoyed!


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